Harry Potter and the Sleeping Beauty Curse
by jacob
Summary: The story of how Albus Severus Potter and Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy came to be together, and how it was really all Harry Potter's fault. At least that's what Draco Malfoy would tell you. Slash and Het.
1. Chapter I: Ron

Disclaimer: I claim no ownership whatsoever of Harry Potter or any related properties.

A/N: I kind of love AS/S, and I wanted something fun to work on in the HP realm that wasn't a seven book AU (no clue when I'll get work done on that particular project that's been stewing since Sirius died in book 5). Needless to say, I don't need more fanfic projects, but damn it all I can't stop starting new ones… And as always, I could use a competent beta or editor since I'm terribad at doing it myself. Thank you to Mr. Maxwell for leaving a splendiforous review.

Chapter I

True beginnings are hard to define; events will always refuse to be pinned down into tidy little line segments definitively placed in chronological order on some grand timeline. Every effect has a cause that stretches back into yet another cause, ad infinitum. But in this case, in this particular story, there is a narrative singularity—an exact moment when something ill defined grew into a new story. This beginning starts with: Harry Potter and the Sleeping Beauty Curse.

What is the Sleeping Beauty Curse you ask? And how did it involve Harry? As to those answers, my dear reader, you must press on to discover.

* * *

Ron Weasely stared at the still, pale body of his best friend (the one he wasn't engaged to) and wondered how on earth they were going to save the day this time, when their task was all but impossible.

"There's no way, absolutely no way," Ron said as vehemently as he could manage, "that that bloody arse-hole will agree to help." Harry lay on the bed looking like death barely warmed over. His room at Grimmauld place wasn't the brightest, so the lighting cast long shadows that seemed to lurk with

"There's no other choice, Ron," said his other best friend, and future wife. "I don't have the curse breaking skills to dismantle something this complex and esoteric, and we can't take him to anyone else."

"Damn it, Harry," Ron swore. They were both junior Aurors, but Harry still retained the inconvenient habit of finding his way into trouble, and the rule breaking instinct instilled in him by Dumbledore had reached a fever peak. The hag they'd been chasing enjoyed the nasty practice of eating Muggle children, and when she fled across the Channel, and out of their Ministry's jurisdiction, Harry had vowed to follow her. Little things like international boundaries and diplomatic disasters never bothered Harry when he was in the heat of the chase.

So Ron had dutifully followed, and Hermione joined them because she didn't trust the two of them to be out of sight, or reach, for an extended period of time. Ron remembered when her mothering would have irritated him or made him feel smothered. These days it made him feel warm and cared for, and a bit safer, because Hermione was still the brightest witch he knew.

Unfortunately, not even the Terrific Trio (the Prophet had come up with that in the hours after Voldemort's defeat) were immune to strong magic, the element of surprise, and a group of 6 hags led by a dark witch of great power. They'd made it out of the castle alive, with all the hags dead, but the witch had escaped, leaving Harry trapped in a dangerous curse from a needle stuck in his neck.

Luckily, Hermione had quickly identified the curse, and taken the appropriate counter measures to stabilize Harry. The curse launched the victim into a deep sleep, bordering on death, where they could linger for centuries, or die within hours if their body didn't adjust properly. A few stabilizing spells, one breathing spell, and a portkey later, Harry was on his bed in Grimmauld Place. They couldn't check him into any official curse-breaker, because the Sleeping Beauty Curse was endemic to the Italian Alps, and then the kneazle would be out of the expandable sack.

"Besides, Malfoy owes Harry a life-debt. At least one, two if you count Harry's intervention in the Trials. He'll be honor-bound to aid Harry, even if he only wants to be free from his debts. He has to help us." When Hermione spoke like that, Ron gave in. Not much could withstand the full might of Hermione Granger (soon to be Weasely) in her righteous fury, and a coward like Draco Malfoy wouldn't stand an ice-fairy's chance in Hell.

"All right, let's go visit the Malfoys," Ron said. Hermione stroked Harry's hair, smoothing it as best she could. Ron moved forward, and took her other hand and raised it up for a kiss.

"He'll be fine, I promise."

"I know he'll be fine," Hermione said softly, "this time. But next time? He's getting more reckless, Ron. I'm worried about him." Ron tucked Hermione under his arm, and gently cupped Harry's cheek. Stubble pulled at his calluses, and he felt his heart swell with affection and fear. They'd gone through too much together to lose each other now.

"We'll beat that troll when we get to the bridge," Ron said. "Now, how do we get in touch with the Ferret?"

"I trust you won't call him that to his face," Hermione said, giving him a strong look. "And actually, I think we should use Kreacher." At the mention of his name in the House of the Noble Blacks, the elf appeared looking far healthier than he had when they first met him in their fifth year.

"Master's friends is asking for Kreacher?" The elf looked up at them, and frowned. "Where is the Master?"

"Harry's cursed, Kreacher, and we need your help to heal him," Hermione said, and Kreacher turned around. He leapt up on the bed and frantically examined Harry. Finally he looked up at them with wide desperate eyes.

"What must Kreacher do? Kreacher is willing to do anything." Hermione walked forward, and bent slightly, to be on Kreacher's eye level.

"Can you bring a message to Draco Malfoy?"

"Of course Kreacher can," the elf said as if offended. "Is a simple thing to deliver a message."

"Then tell him that Harry needs his help, and he must come with you to Grimmauld place," Hermione continued. Kreacher nodded, his ears flapping, and vanished with a pop. A second later he appeared with a still sleeping Malfoy who now lay next to Harry on his bed.

"Bloody Hell," Ron swore loudly, because Draco Malfoy slept in the nude. Malfoy murmured something in his sleep and tried to burrow into the cover, scooting up flush against Harry's body.

"Oh, Kreacher, you weren't supposed to—," Hermione amended as the elf looked up at her fiercely.

"Kreacher knows the smell of dark magic, and Kreacher will do anything to save his Master." Hermione waved her wand, and conjured a gray sweat suit for Malfoy to wear. At the sudden feel of cloth and strange magic, Malfoy woke up, and promptly screamed.

"POTTER," he whirled around. "WEASELY? GRANGER? WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?"

"Stop yelling, Malfoy," Ron snapped. "We need your help."  
"You—You've abducted me," Malfoy said, the more awake he grew so too the more aghast. "You've kidnapped me. Let me go, or I'll—my fa—I didn't do anything." Malfoy looked around frantically, clearly hoping to escape.

"MALFOY," Ron yelled, and the other man froze at his tone. Ron was ready to start hexing the helpless Malfoy if he wasn't willing to help. "Harry's stuck under a curse, the Sleeping Beauty Curse, and we need you to break it." Malfoy looked up at him, almost vulnerable with his sleep tossed hair and big gray eyes. The time since the war had been kinder to Malfoy than he had any right to, but there was still the air of a prisoner about him.

"Me? What? You take me hostage to break a spell on Potter?" Ron bit his tongue and looked to Hermione. He didn't trust himself to speak civilly to Malfoy.

"Please, Malfoy, we need you to help, and you owe Harry a life debt, right? So this is your chance to repay it," Hermione said. As the reality of the situation settled in, Ron watched as Malfoy seemed to regain his poise. He looked down at Harry, and gently edged off the bed, standing on the opposite side from Ron and Hermione.

"Well, I'm not surprised that Potter finally fell prey to his ego. I take it that since he's not at St. Mungo's he was pursuing an… extracurricular assignment?" That sounded much more like the old Malfoy, the one Ron would happily hex into oblivion.  
"That's not your concern, Malfoy," Ron practically growled, slipping his wand out of his sleeve. Malfoy's eyes narrowed in on the wand, and Ron watched as the other man realized he was at their mercy. "You owe your freedom and your life to Harry, you should be jumping at the chance to do something good, for once."

"Jumping? I don't think so, I never asked Potter to save me," Malfoy drawled, and Ron nearly saw red. "Don't have a fit, Weasely, I know what I owe Potter, and the idea of clearing the debt is more than pleasing, as I suspect Granger deduced."

"It wasn't a difficult conclusion to come to, either you would be self-serving as always, or you'd have grown a conscience," Hermione said, her voice cold, and something flashed in Malfoy's eyes.

"Only a fool thinks altruism is the sole source of good deeds," Malfoy replied sharply. Then he sighed. "Now what exactly is it that I need to do, that you two can't, or won't."

"Have you never heard of the Sleeping Beauty Curse?" Hermione asked, a bit archly. Malfoy scowled.

"I sleep with witches, Granger, not with books and gingers." Ron reflected on the fact that even a year ago, he might have hexed Malfoy for saying that. Now, he got angry, but he restrained himself. Hermione ignored Malfoy with the calm of long practice at ignoring idiots, and kept talking.

"The curse suspends the victim in a death-like state, that they can only be awakened from by their greatest adversary."

"Ah, I see. And with the Dark Lord, and the good Professor Snape dead, I am Potter's greatest enemy? How… flattering," Malfoy drawled. "So tell me, how do I wake him? What great feat must I perform to break the curse?"

"He won't do it," Ron said for the final time. Hermione ignored him as easily as she did Malfoy.

"With a kiss," she explained. "A simple kiss on his lips should wake him up." The room was silent for a few moments as Malfoy visibly digested the information.

"I'm sorry, but did you just say I have to kiss Potter?" Malfoy spoke very slowly.

"Yes. It's the best way to break the spell without a master curse-breaker, and it's the traditional remedy." Ron frowned, when Hermione was talking, he'd seen a strange expression flash over her face. She was lying about, or hiding, something. Malfoy didn't seem to notice, too engrossed in what he was expected to do.

"See, he's not going to do it, we're better off," Ron started to say they'd have more luck trying to portkey Bill back from China, but Malfoy interrupted him

"I never said no, Weasely, if only because Potter is clearly in danger, and I refuse to be less of a man than he." Here Malfoy paused to look down his nose at Ron, a bit of a feat since Ron was taller than Malfoy. "Of course, were it you, I'd be happy to let you rot."

The effort Ron put into not punching Malfoy in the face until he couldn't talk anymore was Herculean in scope.

"If you're done antagonizing Ron, you need to kiss him on each cheek, and then on the mouth."

"Left to right, I assume?" Malfoy asked, and Hermione nodded, which made Ron even angrier. Just because Malfoy knew Arithmancy and liked showing off didn't mean Hermione should encourage him! Ron knew his jealously wasn't very coherent, but one of the things he'd grown to discover was that emotions felt every which way they pleased, only actions dictated which were validated (this was mostly word for word something Hermione said).

Still, Malfoy was a prat, and ruined the air just by breathing it; Ron would be relieved when this was all over.

"Very well, if the two of you would turn around," Malfoy said, "I'll do it."

"Oh no, we're not giving you a chance to do something to Harry," Ron began but Malfoy's sneer interrupted him.

"If I wanted to do Potter harm, I wouldn't kiss him. This is embarrassing enough as is, so kindly turn the bloody fuck around," the blond man snapped. Ron opened his mouth to argue, but Hermione pushed him around.

"Just do it." Ron sighed, and faced the wall. A moment later, he heard a gasp and a bright light filled the room.

"Harry, are you okay?" Hermione asked, moving swiftly to his bedside and raising her wand. "Can you hear me?"

"Yeah," Harry said absently, but Ron noticed with a distinct feeling of apprehension that Harry was staring at Malfoy, and Malfoy seemed caught in Harry's gaze. "What happened? And why is Draco here?"

"Draco?" Ron was horrified to find himself and Malfoy squawking in tandem.

"You were cursed, and he was kind enough to break it," Hermione said as she swished her wand over Harry. "He seems fine."

"Thanks, Draco, always knew you were good underneath it all," Harry slurred with a smile, and then fell back asleep. Ron turned to see Malfoy flushed a furiously embarrassed scarlet.

"We-well, I see that I am no longer… needed," Malfoy said awkwardly. "I'll just be going then, I guess." Looking appalled at himself and confused beyond recognition, Malfoy Apparated out with a pop. Hermione had designed the wards, they didn't allow incoming Apparition, but outgoing was fine.

"And what was that all about?" Ron said, outraged, to Hermione. She sighed and glared at Ron.

"I don't know, Ron, okay? I don't have all the answers. Just," she took a deep breath, "let's just be glad Harry's all right now, okay?"

"All right," Ron said, drawing her into his arms. Her body fit against his with the ease of long practice, and Ron buried his face in her hair. She still used the Sleek Easy stuff that smelled like apples, and it comforted him.

"I need to lie down," Hermione said and Ron nodded.

"I'll keep a watch on him."

"Thanks," she said, kissed him on the cheek and left to seek more mattress-like pasture. Ron pointed his wand at a chair and made it recline able, and then fluffed up the pillows, before he sank into it.

"Cheers, Harry," Ron said to his sleeping friend, and leaned back to rest his eyes.

* * *

"WHAT?" Harry squawked. Ron let out a relieved sigh; at last his best mate was acting like himself again. Harry had slept for hours until finally he'd woken up the next morning confused and hungry. Harry was sitting at the kitchen table along with Hermione while Ron worked the range and cooked. Harry's plate was empty except for some toast that he was liberally slathering with butter and jam.

Ron had already dished up bacon and eggs with grilled tomatoes and mushrooms (Hermione had been insistent on Ron learning to cook, and much to his own surprise, he enjoyed it quite a bit) and Harry had devoured them with relish. Now Harry was snacking until Ron cooked up more bacon and sausages. A pot of beans was sitting hot on the counter, not moved to the table as Ron was helping himself to a bit of beans and toast before it vanished into Harry.

"Draco was very helpful," Hermione said with practiced calm. "And you were quite appreciative at the time."

"…what exactly does that mean?" Harry asked in a low wary tone after chasing his toast with some tea.

"You called him by his name, for one," Ron said as he flicked his wand at the stove, "and you told him you always knew he was a good guy under it all."

"I did WHAT?" Hermione rolled her eyes in exasperation, and stood up.

"When you two are done being children, I'll be in the library." Fixing up Grimmauld place had been a long and hard endeavor, but the house was now far warmer than it had ever been. The library had been Hermione's personal pet project, and as such had fast become a repository for any unusual or interesting tome the three of them picked up. Needless to say, she spent as much time in the library as she could, practicing obscure spells and doing research more befitting an Unspeakable than a political activist, especially after having to save Harry from some previously unknown bit of magic, and she kept finding the most useful little spells.

Having a smart girlfriend (fiancé!) was proving quite the pleasure for the long haul, in Ron's opinion.

"What did I say, exactly," Harry asked emphatically, his hands bracing him against the back of a chair. Ron, long used to reading Harry's body language, could see the confusion but no real surprise.

"What I said, mostly. You woke up, asked what was going on, and why 'Draco' was there," Ron said, sneering as he said Malfoy's name. "Then you told him you knew he was good underneath it all. That's it."

"Oh," Harry said. Ron looked at him quizzically, and then checked the sausages.

"You don't seem surprised," he said, his back to Harry as he focused on switching out the sausages and bacon and putting a stasis spell on them so they stayed hot, and then summoned some potatoes from the pantry for a bit of mash.

"I guess I'm not," Harry said, coming up beside Ron and reaching for a bit of bacon, yelping when the spell sparked at his fingers.

"Oh you big strong Auror you," Ron chuckled and took the spell off with a gesture. He was nowhere near as adept at wandless magic as Harry, or Hermione even, but then again very few were, and he was still quite good for simple things.

"Wanker," Harry said cheerfully as he munched on a hot sausage and filched a couple slices of bacon before Ron reset the spell. Ron set the potatoes to mash themselves and the ingredients lined up to hop in the pot when ready. "You've gotten really good at kitchen magic, mate."

"I guess years of watching Mum paid off." Ron looked at Harry. "So?"

"It's complicated," Harry said and Ron snorted derisively. "What? It is."

"Harry, if after everything we've been through, you still think you can," Ron started saying and Harry held up his hands in defeat.

"Okay, okay, I get it, Hermione," he said and Ron gave him a good-natured thwack upside the head. After an exaggerated wince, Harry sighed and started to speak again. "I guess… well, you know… It's just, if Malfoy hadn't been raised by—I think that without his father, Malfoy might have been an all right sort."

Harry had never been known for his eloquence, but neither had Ron, only constant exposure to Hermione had allowed both of them to learn how to make a point. In deference to his training, Ron didn't let himself open his mouth until he'd thought about what Harry'd said.

"I reckon he might have been, but I'd wager galleons to grasshoppers he'd still be a stuck-up spoiled prick."

"Yeah, you're right," Harry said with a light laugh.

"I get your meaning, though. I don't know, I mean, I still think he's a tit and a bloody mean bastard, but he was in an impossible situation during the war, I get that." And he did, Ron understood loyalty and family better than most. His family had included Harry and Hermione for more than half his life, and he'd risked his life for theirs more times than he could count. "What I don't get is why looked like it was the best bit of news you could've gotten."

"I can't control how I look," Harry protested and Ron snorted.

"I know that, but you looked awfully happy."

"Well I guess I was happy he saved my life," Harry replied and Ron rolled his eyes. "You know? It's like… what we all went through, it wasn't the end, you know?"

"Whatever," he said and tapped the pot full of mash. It was done, so he took the spell off the sausages and bacon and pulled out the tray of beans from the oven. "Grubs up."

"Right," Harry said, clearing a space for and putting down some potholders. Ron always smiled when Harry or Hermione did chores, they thought first with their hands rather than their wands.

"I got it, you sit and eat." As Aurors they had learned that magic drained the body of its resources, and after many curses it was vitally important to eat and drink rich nourishing food. There was a reason the food at Hogwarts was heavy as all get-out. Sometimes a curse could be cured, but have so badly drained someone that if they didn't watch out they could die from hunger or dehydration.

Harry sat down a bit too heavily, and Ron watched him closely for signs of exhaustion. The witch who'd cursed him had been very powerful, certainly not on the level of You Know Who, but you didn't have to be one of the most powerful wizards ever to pack a nasty wallop, just clever and cruel.

"'M fine, Ron," Harry mumbled around a mouthful of beans on toast.

"Yeah, sure you are, mate," Ron said easily, helping himself to bacon and buttered toast. Harry was devouring food like Charlie after a hard day with the dragons, and that was a sight that left Ron awestruck time and again on matter how many times he saw it. The sound of the Floo flaring up had both of them looking at the door to see who'd wander in. Only a select group could freely Floo to Grimmauld place, and visitors before noon were an even smaller pool to draw from.

So when Ginny stormed in followed be an amused Neville, neither of them were surprised. Ron took one look at his sister, and swiftly moved back to the range. It'd be best if he busied himself with washing up a bit, and deflect Ginny's wrath onto Harry. Neville dropped himself into a chair and swiped a bit of bacon and biscuit as Ginny erupted.

"Harry what the hell is the matter with you?" Ginny yelled as Harry, looking a bit queasy and frightened, attempted to shrink into a ball. It still amused Ron that after all the dark wizards and witches they'd fought, a woman scorned was still able to frighten the piss out of them. "I know Ron and Hermione are helpless with setting limits but this is the end of it! No more unsanctioned trips out of country! No more chasing after dark wizards without back up! And no more not TELLING YOUR BLOODY GIRLFRIEND WHEN YOU'VE BEEN CURSED OR THAT YOU'RE LEAVING AT ALL!"

"How could I tell you I was cursed after I was cursed?" Harry protested and Neville laughed. Ginny, her face bright red with Weasely anger, snarled and stabbed at Harry with her wand. As she stormed out her Bat Bogey Hex left Harry yelping and stumbling onto the kitchen floor. Once she was out of view, Neville waved his wand at Harry and the removed the hex.

"You're a bit of a glutton for punishment, aren't you, Harry?" Ron grinned, leaving the pots to soak and sat back down at the table. Harry glowered at him as he lowered himself into his chair, gingerly rubbing his nose.

"Bloody coward you are," he said and Ron rolled his eyes.

"Self preservation isn't a sin." Neville snorted again and started dishing up a plate.

"You know, Ron, you're just as good as Hogwarts cooking," Neville said and Ron flushed. He knew he was a decent cook, but that was a bit much.

"Don't bother, Neville, he's in a "no compliment" mood," Harry said and Ron frowned at him.

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?"

"Only you always you do this, after I—well recover," Harry said and Ron glared at him. Sometimes Harry thought he knew a bit more than he thought he did. Or something to that effect. "You start to worry and Hermione does too and then she has to go research something until she calms down and you make a whole mess of food. Happens every time."

"Every time you scare the lot of us by going off the deep end without a broom?" Neville said mildly and Harry sighed. There were some days Ron missed the old Neville, not because he wanted Neville to be timid and self-conscious, but because the new Neville was far too bloody keen and even-tempered. Now he was a wizard who could do more with a quiet word than most with a shout.

On the other hand, it meant that Neville was one of the few people who could get through to Harry. Ron knew he was Harry's best mate, but sometimes that worked against him when trying to get Harry off his quest for saving things.

"What was I supposed to do? There were children in danger," Harry said and Neville nodded.

"I don't dispute that, but if something happened to you, Harry, you wouldn't be able to help any more children," he pointed out. "Let alone the grieving friends you'd leave behind." Harry flushed, suitably chastened, and Ron marveled once again at the difference between the Neville they'd been at school with, and the calm confident man he was now.

And thank Merlin Harry listened to him, because Ron and Hermione were entirely too much like family for Harry to pay much attention to, which was wearing on both of them. Hermione still had a certain amount of sway over Harry, but Ron, as the official Best Mate for the Boy Who Lived, seemed to have about as much influence with Harry as the wind.

"And what about Teddy?" Neville said, his voice soft as feathers, and now Harry looked stricken and Ron was moved to defend him.

"At least he's not completely suicidal, he does tell us," Ron put in and Neville looked at him with dry bemusement.

"And yet you don't ever seem to inform the rest of us before you embark on these little adventures." Now Ron knew he was flushing and Harry was shooting him a rueful grin.

"When did you get so old?" Ron asked and Neville laughed.

"Apprentice Professors either grow up fast or get trod on by students," he said.

"How is Hogwarts?" Harry asked and Neville smiled.

"It's brilliant. Although Professor Snape's portrait insists upon visiting my quarters at the oddest hours."

"Bloody Snape," Ron said, but without rancor. Harry and he and Hermione had campaigned hard for Snape to have a portrait created, and although he wasn't yet allowed to rest in the Headmaster's office, Harry wasn't letting up on Snape getting his due treatment.

The man had been an utter bastard, but there was no denying he was one of the bravest, strongest and greatest wizards of the last century. Not that Ron would ever, ever, say any of that aloud, and it didn't mitigate the man's sheer level of wankery (Ron's inner Hermione chimed in saying that "wankery" was not a word).

"The student body is even smaller than when we were in school, but Professor Vector tells me that attendance should begin steadily picking up within another year or two, and we can expect full attendance in another fifteen years or so." Hermione still wrote letters to her old Professors, and Ron had once seen one she sent to her Arithmancy professor, and had been unaware that magical math involved so many letters, instead of numbers.

"Good, that's good," Harry said.

"So, what was the curse?" Neville asked as he ate some more. Harry paled and looked at Ron who smiled at him wickedly.

"The Sleeping Beauty Curse," Ron said sly as a cat with cream, and Harry clenched his jaw and glowered. Neville took in the interaction with amused curiosity. "And you'll never guess what the cure was."

"Kissing Draco Malfoy?" Harry and Ron gaped at Neville who picked up his tea and with great calm sipped. "I told you, Professor Snape drops by all the time."

"But how did he know?" Harry asked in a high voice.

"Apparently he's still very close with Draco," Neville said. "I heard all about it earlier this morning before I went to meet Gin in Hogsmeade. He said that Draco sounded quite confused about it."

"Confused?" Harry said in alarm and Neville snickered.

"Not like that, Harry, just, you know, it's a bit odd for him to have done something… nice for you."

"'S not like he did of his own free will," Ron mumbled.

"But he did, didn't he?" Neville asked again in that quiet knowing voice. Perhaps it was something about being professor, Ron decided. "And that's quite a change of pace, for him. He's been very lonely since the war ended, Professor Snape tells me, shut up in that massive house of his with just his parents and marauding Aurors."

Lucius Malfoy was on house arrest for the rest of his natural life. His wand had been snapped and he was forbidden from doing magic. Because of Malfoy and Narcissa's contributions at the end of the war, they were spared any substantive punishment, and although Ron would happily watch the Malfoy prestige disintegrate, he knew that there had been more than a few Aurors all too happy to take up routine investigations at the manor and get a bit of their own payback in.

"What do you mean, marauding Aurors?" Harry asked pointedly and there were times Ron despaired of Harry's innate sense of justice and his outrageous naivety. You'd think the wizard who offed You Know Who would be a bit savvier than Harry seemed to be. Harry could detect pure evil at 500 paces, but good dipping its toe into the darker side passed over his head like Quaffle thrown wide.

"You didn't know?" Neville asked and Ron flushed. Harry zoomed in on him like a hawk, his green eyes glinting fiercely.

"What's he talking about, Ron?"

"You know the Malfoys are on probation," Ron said slowly, carefully. When Harry was fired up caution was the best tact to take.

"At this point it's just Lucius," Harry responded and Ron held up a hand.

"That's the law of the letter, but since Lucius is still the _paterfamilias_, it effectively means they're all under probation. So Aurors have been known to… extend their visits."

"Like who?"

"I don't know, Harry, they don't walk around talking about it, 'Oh you went over to the Malfoy place today? Didja frisk the old lady? She's a bleeding beauty that one is.' It's a dirty little secret, and people don't like to talk about those kinds of things around you, on account of disappointing Harry Potter is like disappointing the Queen for Muggles or something."

"That's horseshit," Harry swore, standing up. "And it's wrong."

"Whoa, hold on there mate, no sense in blowing up about it." Ron honestly didn't see it as a grave injustice, but Harry clearly did, and when Harry went off half-cocked… Well then they wound up halfway across Europe chasing hags and dark witches.

"You knew about this?" Harry stared at Ron aghast and he shrugged.

"I suspected, Neville confirmed it just now. I figure they figured any word I get is tossed in your ear quick as a fiddle, so it wasn't talked up around me. But it makes sense."

"How do we stop it?" Ron shrugged again, just because Narcissa and Malfoy—all right—Draco, weren't evil didn't mean they shouldn't get a bit of comeuppance.

"Perhaps it could be a duty you request?" Neville spoke up and Harry's eyes lit.

"That's brilliant, Nev, they'd never turn down a request from me."

"Fame-whore," Ron teased him good-naturedly and Harry scowled at him in the same vein, before breaking into a rueful grin. Whatever problems they had, they would face together, even if those problems were Malfoy-aid related. And if keeping an eye on the Malfoys kept Harry out of trouble, then that was just the perfect bonus.

* * *

And that dear reader is where our introduction ends. If poor Ron had known at the time where this would all lead them, he might have fought a bit harder before letting Harry help the Malfoys. But, and this should be noted, only because he wouldn't have been there for the whole journey. The end result might very well have blown his mind. However let us take one thing at a time as all stories have their pace and rhythm carefully placed.


	2. Chapter II: Harry

Disclaimer: I claim no ownership whatsoever of Harry Potter or any related properties and intend to make no profit for use of trademarked entities.

A/N: Second to last chapter explaining how Harry and Malfoy came to be, if not friends, at least friendly. Next chapter is the last of the set-up, and the first chapter with Albus in it. Please submit mistakes you find! I'm using a Pages now instead of MS word and I'm a lil too stoned to properly spell check...

Chapter II

The first time Harry ran into Malfoy outside of his job was a Sunday morning only a month after the Sleeping Beauty Curse.

Getting Malfoy Manor patrol duty was easy as saying he wanted it. No one denied the Chosen One anything, and although it normally yanked Harry's chain it proved useful more than a few times. This was one of those times. He'd simply gone to Robards and asked to take over Lucius Malfoy's probation. Robards had looked at him as if he'd gone mad, and gave Harry what he sought. It was an open secret in the Auror Corps that Harry was Shacklebolt's choice for Head Auror, and that Robards was just sitting in the office until Harry was ready. Robards had been happy teaching at the Academy, the Auror training facility, only coming back to office because there was no one fit for the task and a war was going on. Shacklebolt had asked him to stay until Harry was ready to replace him, and Robards had agreed.

Ron had begged off actually investigating the Manor proper, and was content to do rounds of the grounds on his broom (the newest Nimbus, a present Harry had given him for his 20th birthday) and occasionally harass the peacocks. Harry knew that seeing the peacocks charmed from a prestigious white to an iridescent rainbow irritated Lucius to no end, and so he allowed it, seeing as Harry still despised the man.

Narcissa and Draco were another matter. Although Draco was not Harry's favorite person, with hindsight and an adult awareness he was able to look back at their past and see how little choice Draco had in everything he did. Much like Harry, they were pawns in the hands of older more powerful wizards, in a conflict that neither really wanted or even understood.

Still, as Ron said, the man was a bit of a tit and remained the spoiled snot nosed bastard of Harry's memory. Narcissa on the other hand had proven to be exceedingly gracious, even though Harry knew she was in many ways no better than the rest of her family. At least she tried to be polite, and Harry found himself taking tea with her whenever the Ministry decided the Malfoys needed a check-up.

Perhaps it was Harry's weakness for mothers who loved their children, or it could be put down to Narcissa's deft hand at conversation, but Harry enjoyed taking tea with the older woman. Their conversations were rarely long or had much depth, and Narcissa had a way of speaking to Harry that he didn't get anywhere else. Most wizards and witches were so in awe of him they treated him like a hero from myth. Those who didn't share this view were still wary of his power, even his opponents (of which there were very few these days) stepped carefully around Harry. Narcissa treated him like a fellow adult, cordially and polite without deference or intimacy.

To say their tea times were refreshing would be understatement. So Harry saw very little of Draco and even less of Lucius, which was fine with him. He had no real desire to speak to either man. Thus, the day he ran into Draco outside Gringotts he was left a bit flummoxed as to how to interact with him.

Thankfully Draco was equally flustered. They'd both reached the door at the same time and walked in together before realizing who the other was. The result of them standing together was amusing to the say the least. Harry saw people look at him in great thanks and worship and then notice Draco and ugly sneers would take the place of warmth.

The difference was not lost on Draco who flushed and looked into the distance with a dignified sniff.

"Draco, fancy seeing you here," Harry said loudly, belatedly realizing it was a bit louder than he'd intended. The effect was still as desired, people and goblins suddenly busied themselves from sneering at the former Death Eater and began murmuring to one another about how the Chosen One was friendly with Draco Malfoy.

"Potter," Draco said neutrally, and Harry supposed that was progress.

"Is Narcissa well?" Harry asked quietly. "She wasn't at the manor when I dropped by yesterday."

"She and father are at the cottage on the north end of the estate," Draco answered after a moment. "I didn't know we had an inspection yesterday."

"You didn't," Harry admitted. "I was—I had a message for your mother. When Kipsy told me she wasn't home, I left." Kipsy was one of those rare house elves who didn't completely kowtow to Harry. She referred to him as Master Potter and was polite and deferential as all elves were, but without the constant praise and adulation.

Harry was coming to realize that the Malfoys were a worship free zone with a lack of emotional intimacy, and there was something worrying about how attractive that was. Harry loved his family, from Teddy and Andromeda to the Weaselys and Hermione, but sometimes it was nice to be treated like a normal person by a relative stranger.

The fact that Narcissa was apparently destined to become something of a regular acquaintance could interfere with that, a worry that had pestered Harry in his purpose of visiting Narcissa. He'd come bearing an indirect message from Andromeda.

Actually it wasn't a message at all, Harry had mentioned to Andromeda that he'd been spending time at the Manor, and she had commented that perhaps it was time to reacquaint herself with her estranged sister. Harry had taken her words as tacit approval to seek Narcissa out and relay the sentiment. Whether Andromeda had meant for him to do that was highly debatable (Hermione would declare he was meddling, and Ron would point out that her favorite past time was meddling and she was a bloody hypocrite). Harry had been confident that Narcissa would be up to the task, so discovering she wasn't in the manor threw him a wobbler.

"And you couldn't owl it?" Draco asked a bit snidely and Harry flushed. He had never gotten around to replacing Hedwig, it just didn't feel right, and since Hermione had her own Ministry owl and Ron still had Pig, he'd just borrowed theirs. "Oh."

Harry looked up to see Draco looking at him speculatively and as awkward as when they first bumped into each other.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to… bring up bad memories," Draco finally said and Harry was gratified the other man made little of it.

"I know it's silly, that I should get another owl, but she was my first, and I loved her," Harry said honestly and Draco leered a smirk at him.

"Funny, I thought the Weaselette would be your first. Is the owl fixation why you haven't settled down and popped out a horde of roving ferocious red-heads?" Harry surprised himself and Draco by chuckling. The conversation disintegrated shortly after that, both of them had business to attend to. All of it left Harry with a good feeling, as though he'd done something important.

If he'd befriended Draco all those years ago, how different might the world have been? Hermione had drilled into Harry that thinking of "what ifs" was a: "dangerous occupation," and "hazardous to his mental stability." Discarding the train of thought, Harry made plans to come by the Manor later in the week to have tea with Narcissa and Draco.

Parting ways as Draco had business at the front desk and Harry in his vault, he reflected on how things had changed, and why this new friendship with Narcissa and Draco was forming, but most of all why was he finding it so satisfying?

* * *

Harry shifted nervously from one foot to the other. Teddy, always sensitive to the moods around him, turned to him with giant bottle green eyes, the same color as Harry's. Teddy's eyes always mirrored Harry's when they were together, Teddy had told him he couldn't help it, it just happened. More than one story had been filed by the Daily Prophet and other wizarding publications that Teddy was in fact Harry's illegitimate love child with Tonks, and the marriage to Remus was a cover up. Harry detested those articles and publicly derided Rita Skeeter for rumor mongering and insensitivity to children. Public opinion, always in his favor, got a gag order on her and started the process of laws protecting minors in the press.

Wizards rarely reacted well to being informed that Muggles were more civilized than they, and Hermione had used that to brow beat several legislations into the Wizengamot.

"Are you scared, Harry?" Teddy asked and Harry smiled down at him reassuringly. Teddy's hand was closed in Harry's, and those small fingers were so precious to him he could barely speak the words.

"I'm nervous," he admitted. "But it's okay." Hermione had gotten him several books on parenting, Muggle ones dealing with child psychology. Harry had been frantic with worry he wouldn't be able to provide Teddy with the support and love he needed, and Hermione's answer had been research, which was her answer to most everything.

It was Ron who had done the work of making Harry see reason, by taking him out, getting him a bit sloshed and then having a long talk about what family meant. By the end he'd been reassured that even though mistakes were inevitable, love was only important thing. If Harry loved Teddy, it would all turn out right in the end.

Harry had the best friends a bloke could ask for.

"Okay," Teddy said, skepticism making his hair turn muddy with a blue fringe. The link between Teddy's emotions and his hair color had something to do with wavelengths of light and Arithmancy, but Harry had begged off listening to Hermione's essay on Metamorphagi.

Finally the great door of Malfoy Manor opened, revealing Draco, looking a bit harassed. He almost sighed with relief when he saw Harry and Teddy, which had Harry feeling a bit off balance.

"They've been insatiable, thank Merlin you're here," Draco said as he ushered them inside. "Mother told Andromeda about Astoria and I think the knowledge has driven them insane. They're already planning the wedding and Mother detests Astoria's mother Esmerelda and now Andromeda is scheming with her and I am going to curse both of them if you don't bloody well distract them this very instant Theodore."

"Okay!" Teddy sang, and ran off to find his grandmother and great aunt. Harry watched him anxiously as the little boy ran full tilt and tripped, crashed to the floor, and then leapt back up with the energy only a 5 year old could have.

"I have never been so frightened as just now. I'm not even ready to be married yet, Astoria and I have only known each other for a month," Draco prattled on, his voice apparently as unhinged as the rest of him. Which made what Harry was about to say even more awkward.

"You can't come to the wedding," he blurted out, and Draco looked at him quizzically, caught half stride.

"What wedding, Potter? My wedding that is apparently being planned at this very moment?"

"Mine," Harry said and Draco raised an eyebrow and then sneered.

"Must everything always be about you? I never even received an invitation, so I assumed I wasn't wanted."

"I wanted you to be there," Harry said awkwardly. "I mean, I wanted to invite you, but… I'm sorry."

"So, you're telling me you wanted to invite me to your wedding, but you can't. Is this some sort of misguided attempt at friendship? 'Dearly sorry, Draco, old chap but you can't come to the wedding on account of the in-laws don't have much truck with former Death Eaters.'" Draco's voice was withering with its scorn but Harry had figured Draco Malfoy out. The crueler the other man was, the more hurt he felt.

"Yes, but not misguided. I wanted you to know that I think of you as a friend." Much like facing a troll, there were certain shared experiences that bonded people, one of which was family.

After Harry had passed along his message to Narcissa, he'd been taken away on assignment for a few weeks, so he missed the reunion between the sisters. Although they'd moved slowly, over time Narcissa and Andromeda had begun to mend their relationship, and with that Draco had found himself exposed to Teddy. Teddy who could melt the heart of any grown person with just a big soulful look.

Draco had been no different than those before him, and Teddy had won him over. The first time Teddy had slept over at the mansion Harry had spent the night with him and Draco in a wizarding tent out on the grounds. Harry had made them a campfire and cooked s'mores the Muggle way, which Draco had grudgingly admitted were quite good. After such a successful first outing, the camp out became a bit of a regular thing, with Draco and Harry meeting up every other weekend to camp out with Teddy.

Dealing with a rambunctious toddler, like fighting a troll, was a bonding experience. Harry had had his share of fights with Draco, the other man was incredibly prickly and at first it had seemed they might never get along. Too much shared history and most of it bad almost derailed whatever attempt at friendship, however cordial and removed, Harry was making would be doomed to failure. Teddy had happily broken down the walls between them with all the subtlety a toddler had to offer, which was somewhere between a rogue bludger and a rampaging hippogryph.

"I don't need your friendship, Potter," Draco said, but with less heat than before.

"Never said you did," Harry told him, and Draco scowled which meant the point had gotten through. Harry was apparently the first person in Draco's life to call him on his prickly nature and be undeterred by it. "Now how about we grab a butterbeer and have a chat."

"You're such a child," Draco sniffed disdainfully, but Harry knew he would also take a butterbeer. Draco had small tolerance for alcohol, something he was horrendously embarrassed that Harry had discovered quite easily, and a sweet tooth almost as big as Harry's. Ginny and Hermione frequently despaired of Harry's ability to devour sweets and not balloon up like Dudley. Rather, like Dudley used to be. Harry had a distant relationship with his cousin, but the last Christmas card he'd gotten had showcased Dudley's transformation from a pudgy kid to an extremely muscular young man.

Even Ron had seemed a bit intimidated by the picture of Dudley.

The two men walked outside and stood on the veranda overlooking the grounds. There seemed to be more peacocks than the last time he'd been at the house, and he said as much.

"The peacocks are tied to the Malfoy family. As the family prospers, so do they," Draco admitted to him.

"Things are looking up then." Draco smirked a bit.

"They are."

"That's good. I hope the trainees haven't been too much trouble?" Harry was being prepped for his imminent promotion to Head Auror, the youngest in 250-some odd years. Since he'd been taking the Malfoy's probation charge on himself, finding someone who would do the job and not abuse their authority was tricky. He'd thought he found a neat solution in having it be a trainee job, where two potential Aurors were taken by an on-duty Auror to interview Lucius and examine the grounds. Trainees would get on the job training and experience with a mostly harmless Death Eater and they'd be on their best behavior, so there would be less chance for harassment.

When Harry had suggested it to Draco the other man shot it down with almost frightening ease. How the combination of trainees and anyone with a grudge was stupid idea, how trainees would be even clumsier or nastier or stupider than typical Aurors, how three people was worse than two and how if Harry thought anything for his family's dignity he'd get Lucius off probation anyway.

They'd had a bit of a fight about that, and Harry had avoided speaking to Draco for a few weeks. He did repeat his plan to Narcissa who suggested that perhaps it might be best of simply trainees went as an exercise. She explained that the situation of the family could benefit from a reduction of scrutiny by the ministry, and how keeping Lucius on display in such a manner was insulting to her husband.

Narcissa knew Harry cared nothing about what happened to Lucius, but she had been very compelling when telling Harry that she did not wish the man she loved to be treated like a trophy for Aurors. Harry had apologized, Narcissa had accepted, and they'd come to an agreement. Trainee aurors in pairs would conduct the terms of Lucius's probation and patrol the grounds while a senior Auror stood by at the guest Floo room.

"They're a bunch of snot nosed incompetents," Draco said distastefully. "And Mother has already ensnared the lot of them."

"She's what?" Harry gasped and Draco glowered at him.

"Get your mind out of the gutter Potter, that's my mother, I know you—" Draco bit his tongue and Harry took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. But no, she'd done nothing so sinister, except serve them all tea and cookies."

"She does, does she?" Harry asked and Draco smirked.

"Yes, I doubt we'll ever be on the receiving end of trouble from Aurors again. The next generation of them thinks very highly of Mother."

"That's not quite what I had in mind, but when life hands you lemons," Harry said.

"What do you do when life hands you lemons?" Draco asked skeptically.

"You make lemonade. Seriously, is that not a saying for wizards? I know it's not magical but, it's lemonade."

"Oh I suspect it could be, I've just never heard it before."

"There you two are!" Both turned to see Andromeda walking toward them followed by Narcissa who was bobbing a gleeful Teddy along in the air, with her wand. Teddy's hair was white, so he was having a good time, and his eyes were light blue, his cheeks flushed as Narcissa's spell threw him about.

"Quick, Potter, I'm in need of saving, go be a Gryffindor," Draco whispered quickly and then shoved Harry. He walked away quickly calling out, "I'm going to check on those cucumber sandwiches."

And he made his escape.

"I swear, that boy thinks we're unintelligent," Andromeda said dropping a kiss onto Harry's cheek.

"He's always had a rather… persistent perspective on the world," Narcissa said and looked at Harry with cool eyes. "Hello, Mr. Potter." Andromeda, used to the odd half-formal relationship Harry had with Narcissa and Draco, didn't comment, but she did try to hide a smirk, as the little dance they always did amused her to no end.

"Harry I'm bouncing!" Teddy cheered as he sprung about the air like a rubber ball.

"Are you sure? It looks more like bobbing to me," Harry said and Teddy scowled at him, upside down, his hair white and his eyes green once again. "C'mere, Mate."

With a gentle pull from his magic Narcissa let her spell end and Teddy floated over to Harry, and landed neatly on his shoulders.

"So, Mr. Potter, Andy tells me you're to be married soon. Congratulations," Narcissa said and Harry thanked her politely. "And how does it feel, to be engaged?"

"Which is Cissy's way of asking if Draco's confided anything in you about Astoria?" Andromeda said with an impish grin. Narcissa raised an eyebrow and quirked the corner of mouth in amusement. Teddy squealed in spontaneous delight and tugged Harry's hair.

Life was good.

* * *

Harry had never been so scared in his life, and that was saying something. Even all the times he'd been through hell couldn't compare to the fear he felt now. This fear held him tight, helpless to watch as something more precious to him than he could say might be lost.

"Mr. Potter, may I speak with you outside?" Harry turned to see Healer Vandergriff and Healer Gavaskar standing outside. Harry walked outside, Hermione walking to his side without a word. Vandergriff's immense beard was trembling with excitement, and Gavaskar was bouncing back on forth on his heels with a wide smile. Even the normally dour Healer Caspin looked pleased instead of his usual scowling visage.

"We've found something," Gavaskar said eagerly, his Indian accent giving the words just a hint of the exotic. A bright red bindi blared between his immense bristled eye brows, and he had his hair done up in a turban wrap that was very untidy.

And Harry knew relief as the healers quickly explained to Hermione what they had discovered. Teddy was going to be all right, and Harry wouldn't—Harry wouldn't have to make that choice. After a few minutes hurried conversation with magical theory and potion's terms Harry knew nothing about the healers moved off to prepare the procedure. Hermione turned to him and smiled widely at him, her eyes a bit damp.

"You were right, Harry, Damocles's original recipe can be altered to affect metamorphic physiology, and Professor Snape knew just the trick. They'll have a potion ready in three days."

"That's cutting it close," Harry said, the full moon was only a week away.

"They're already taking every shortcut they can without affecting the stability of the potion."

"What's the alteration?" Harry asked, knowing he would have little idea of the why.

"Crushed chameleon scales and caramelized willow tree sap from a wand quality tree." It made no sense to Harry, but Hermione had explained as though it were obvious

"And this will end Teddy's attacks?" When Teddy had just turned 8 years old something odd had begun to happen at every full moon. While Teddy was asleep his face would change, and his body would try to as well. Hair would sprout all over him his teeth would get longer and certain bones would grow while others didn't. The entire episodes started relatively small, but as he got older they grew worse, and began to become painful.

Teddy hadn't wanted to worry anyone, so he hadn't mentioned it. Now, almost a year later, the attacks were horribly painful and threatening. There was a full moon coming up, and if they didn't get some sort of cure inside him, then they had only two real options. Either they deliberately infected Teddy with full blown lycanthropy, or Harry broke a sacred promise to himself, and took up the Elder Wand once more. The first was unthinkable, but the second was dangerous.

Silently thanking God for Draco who had pointed out that Snape, as one of the most brilliant potions experts of the last hundred years and the man to improve upon the Wolfsbane potion, Harry walked down the hall back to Teddy's room with Hermione.

"If all goes well. Some of the theory is bit out of my grasp, but after the initial potion runs its course Teddy will only need to take once at every half moon." The door opened before Hermione without her touching it, and the entered the observing room.

"What did they tell you?" Ginny was sitting on the couch holding a sleeping baby James. There were a couple large squishy chairs along with the couch and a single sad fern on a low set table. On the other side of the glass windows and door was a small private room with no windows, just a pale boy laying in a stark white bed.

Teddy was attached to a few odd looking machines made of brass with curious bags full of multicolored potion ingredients. Harry walked up to the class and touched it, cool under his fingertips.

"They have an idea," Hermione said briskly. "Finally. Professor Snape's portrait has come up with a variant of the wolfsbane potion that should stop Teddy from having morphological fits."

"Thank Merlin," Ginny said moving over to Harry's side, gently bouncing James. "I'm going to tell Mum, okay?"

"Thanks, Gin," Harry said and kissed her quickly before she walked out. Harry moved into Teddy's room and collapsed roughly into a chair next to the bed where his sleeping godson lay. So pale and young to be in a hospital bed, Harry thought, so fragile...

"Where did you come up with the idea to consult with Snape, Harry?" Hermione asked after a bit of silence. Harry sighed, he'd known that this was coming, and at least it was Hermione he told first. Ron would be impartial but Ginny and Molly would not.

"Draco."

"I thought so." Harry turned to look at her, and she seemed a bit uncomfortable. "Does Ginny know you saw him?"

"No." Ron and Hermione were the only ones who knew about the Sleeping Beauty Curse fiasco and Draco's role in it. Harry suspected that Narcissa knew, and perhaps Andromeda, but they never spoke of it to him. Unfortunately the rest of his family did not look kindly upon the Malfoys, to say the least. Ginny was willing to accept that Harry maintained a distant relationship with Narcissa, he owed her a life debt after all. However if Harry spent more time than she thought appropriate at the Malfoys she grew displeased, to put it mildly. Harry didn't begrudge her, Lucius Malfoy had done something terrible to her and Draco had been a horrible person when they were in school. It just made things difficult, and Harry saw no end in sight.

Especially not when it was Draco's idea to use Professor Snape's portrait. Snape was little different in death than in life, but Harry had grown over the years, and was able to take the other man in stride. Only, something about Snape had bothered him, nothing he could put his finger on just yet. Portraits were supposed to be static, relatively unchanging, although they could learn new information. Snape had seemed different somehow, as if more awake or alive. Harry had half expected the dead professor to suddenly pop out of the portrait and begin berating him in person.

"Teddy's lucky to have family that cares about him," she said, threading her fingers through Harry's. She squeezed his hand and he smiled at her. These days Hermione get her hair pulled back into a loose bun held up by a couple of large wooden needles that Harry knew were comprised of a specialty wand for runic enchantments, a transfigured Everink quill and the last a transfigured umbrella.

Always prepared was his Hermione.

"Yeah," Harry said and looked at his precious godson. Teddy was such a sweet boy, and reminded Harry so much of his parents. He liked to tease but was never cruel, was smart and loved reading but also flying and having fun. Harry was so proud of Teddy he thought he might burst, and knowing that he would be safe now eased Harry a great deal. Tension he'd carried for the last few weeks finally began to ebb and he sighed as he leaned back.

"And he's going to be fine," Hermione said softly in his ear. "So it's time you took a rest." Harry barely had time to react before he felt magic wash over him and he fell back into the chair that Hermione had charmed to recline.

He really would have to talk to her later about being so presumptuous, but a nap would be wonderful, so he let the spell carry him off to sleep.


	3. Chapter III: Harry

Disclaimer: I claim no ownership whatsoever of Harry Potter or any related properties and intend to make no profit for use of trademarked entities.

A/N: This chapter gave me some problems, but it had to be done, and after this the unspecific time jumping will stop as the story takes on a smoother narrative. Next up we finally get Albus's POV, which should maintain for the rest of the story, barring the Sorting interludes that will be scattered throughout and the occasional intrusion from certain characters to be revealed. Oh yeah and slash at some point.

Once again I am lazy and harried so I don't do a great job of editing. If you see mistakes holla atcha boyeeee

Chapter III

_ "Ah, Mr. Lupin, I see. Welcome to Hogwarts young man."_

_ Thank you?_

_"You're very welcome, now, to the business of Sorting. You have a calm nature, a balance and ease that comes from both your parents…"_

_ Balance and ease and Mum?_

_ "Perhaps not balance, but certainly ease. A great sense of self is required when you can appear as anyone you want, or when your body betrays you under the light of the full moon. That is your inherited nature, the blend of your mother and father centered on strength of character. And this centering is what cemented your parents' love."_

_ How do you know that?_

_ "I know what all those who have worn me know, even that which is secret in their minds. However, a wise man once said: we are our choices, not just our natures. Your nature is that you will always fight for the right choice, something that comes from all your family, and the quiet courage that makes you perfect for _GRYFFINDOR!

* * *

Harry wasn't an impatient man most of the time, but he was starting to wonder whether Neville was actually going to meet him after all. With a sigh he glanced at the back door behind the bar, the one that led up to Hannah and Neville's private apartment with the Floo to Hogwarts. He'd only been waiting for half an hour, but Harry was almost as nervous about attending Hogwarts as Teddy was excited.

With his metamorphic condition in control and medicated Teddy had a bit more range of transformation but wouldn't endure painful changes under the full moon. Professor McGonagall had informed Harry that Teddy would be an excellent candidate for Animagery owing to his natural morphing abilities and the possibility that it would allow him to manage his condition without a modified Wolfsbane potion, and Harry had agreed, before putting the matter to Andromeda.

Teddy didn't know yet, Andromeda didn't want him taking any risks before he was old enough to properly carry out the ritual. Teddy was a sensible boy regardless, much more in tune and aware than Harry had been at that age. Between Harry, Andromeda and their circle of family and friends Teddy had a solid base in which to grow.

However, Harry still worried. Hogwarts was not the school of his childhood, there was no prophecy hanging over Teddy's head, and no Dark Wizard of great power hunting for him. The school was safer, Harry knew from first hand inspection, he'd helped make it safer, establishing Dark Detectors and weaving some personal safeguards on the secret passageways with Ron.

Hermione had been in favor of informing the staff and closing them up, but Ron and Harry argued students needed a chance to sneak out, and the castle would only grow new passageways. It did them little good if they had to discover entirely new secrets in order to protect them. Hermione had disapproved, but she'd also given Ron and Harry a complex reverse age line enchantment to be laid down the tunnels. No adults would be sneaking into Hogwarts, Animagus or otherwise.

Neville was aware of all this and having finally taking over from Professor Sprout, who relocated to the Amazon to practice Herbology field research, he was Harry's default contact at Hogwarts. McGonagall had been acting headmistress for a few years before taking a sabbatical and was now back at the school since Sprout had left. Many of the professors had retired or taken time off after the war finished, staggered so that the school would never be at a loss for a stable curriculum and competent faculty. All this was part of the reason Neville's promotion to Professor was fast tracked, as he was now one of the youngest teachers at Hogwarts in decades.

Now Neville was head of Gryffindor House and McGonagall had been instated as Headmistress earlier that summer, finally giving Professor Flitwick his year to take a sabbatical. The diminutive dueler gave several lectures to the junior Auror class and had even done a workshop for the seniors. Harry himself had been set to duel Flitwick for a demonstration to both classes. Even though Harry had faced stronger opponents, no one but his top three (Voldemort, Snape and Dumbledore) could have kept up with Flitwick's consistently quick barrage of esoteric and powerful hexes.

Harry landed bum up more than a few times, but on the upside Flitwick had walked away with flowers blooming in his hair that even he couldn't rid himself of, although apparently the smell of cabbage abated after a few hours. The blossoms were lovely orchids in a range of colors, a spell Harry had learned for his Albus and Lily, who both loved flowers. Ginny typically begged off when Lily and Albus wanted to explore "famous" and "fantastic" gardens, but Harry found he could tolerate almost anything while spending time with his children. A nice walk outside with his favorite daughter and his youngest son was welcome any day of the week, so far as Harry was concerned.

Harry was knocked out of his reminiscing when Neville suddenly sat down across from him. The young professor looked winded, and had sweet beading on his forehead.

"All right, Nev?"

"Yeah, just need to catch my breath. Thanks luv," Neville said as Hannah brought him something cold and frothy looking in a large pewter goblet. She smiled at him, they kissed once and she swatted Harry good-naturedly on the arm as she left.

"So?" Harry asked Neville had taken a long pull off the goblet and started breathing slower.

"Bit of an emergency in Greenhouse 3," Neville explained. "Some stupid tit who's too big for britches decided to halve his detention by putting all the plants away without separator charms."

"You're having me on," Harry said, imagining the havoc some of Neville's monsters would wreak if left unattended and free.

"Exactly. My _Nepenthes Horriblus_ nearly ate my Roving Tentacula!" Harry made a concerted effort to school his face and managed not to smile at Neville's outrage.

"That's wretched, but you seem to have an idea who did it?" Harry asked after a moment to school his voice. Neville glowered at him, so he must not have been successful.

"Yeah, and he'll be paying for it tomorrow, I can promise you." Neville took another long slow drink. "I'll have him in detentions the rest of the month." Harry felt perhaps that'd be a bit extreme but Neville was the professor, not him.

"What's that you got there?"

"Refresher," Neville said and Harry nodded. Hannah's personal specialty was a Refresher; a part pepper-up potion part coffee drink blended in her private room with other unknowns in it. The drink tasted of light coffee mint, and it was cool to the mouth but warm in the gut, filling the drinker with low-level energy and clarity of mind.

It was extremely popular at the Ministry. Hannah had actually opened up a stand in the Ministry Atrium after the Wizengamot bypassed the application process for her. Apparently buying all the political favors in the world cost only a refreshing stimulating drink.

No one at Hogwarts would ever have suspected that Hannah Abbot would one day occupy the heart in a wide web of important political players in the Wizarding world. But the unassuming Hufflepuff witch heard more about important legislation in an hour at her other location than most wizards heard in a lifetime. She stilled pulled three shifts a week at the Cauldron proper, with an energy and dedication Harry could only envy.

"Eyes off mate, Ginny'd skin you right and proper," Neville joked and Harry rolled his eyes. "And then I'd feed you to my plants."

"So now that you're finally here," Harry drawled in a way he'd definitely picked up from Malfoy, "perhaps we can come to the subject at hand?"

"Certainly, Draco," Neville replied in kind, "although as to what you were referring I have no clue."

"Bugger off Nev," Harry said and Neville laughed again.

"I'm going to guess it's about Teddy, right?" Harry nodded and sipped his butterbeer. "Why though? He's done fine for a first year, and he settled right in to Gryffindor. I keep an eye out for him, you know."

"Yes I do, and I trust you, but there's something else," Harry trailed off. "See, I'm going to give Teddy my invisibility cloak."

"You really shouldn't be telling me this," Neville commented.

"I trust you, Nev, and I just... I want Teddy to have fun, to get into some mischief but I'm worried."

"It's not the same school you went to, Harry, we're not half desperate for professors and things are safer."

"Teddy is everything to me, Neville, he is as much my child as James, Albus and Lily. And since I plan on giving them the cloak when they attend Hogwarts-"

"Really should not be telling me this," Neville said sotto voice.

"-I want to give Teddy something that shows him I still think of him as mine, that he's equal in my eyes," Harry finished. "But I don't want him in danger, accidental or otherwise."

"And your solution is?"

"This," Harry said, handing over a large bit of folded parchment. Neville picked up the Marauder's Map and his eyes went round.

"Is this what I think it is?"

"You don't recognize it?" Harry joked.

"It's folded parchment, do you know how much folded parchment I see every day?" Neville said wryly and then laughed at the look on Harry's face. Neville knew all too well how much paperwork Harry was stuck with, no matter how much he delegated to young Cornelius, his Squib assistant.

Poor Cornelius wanted to be an Auror, but without usable magic it was impossible. Cornelius could manage small spells with small effects and nothing more. He'd impressed Harry with his determination and intelligence, only there was no existing job without fieldwork. So Harry had done the next best thing, he'd created Cornelius a vital position in the Wizarding justice system, as chief secretary to the Head of the Aurors. The boy had been so proud to get a Ministry job without a Hogwarts education that he'd never failed Harry. And without Cornelius, Harry would be an easy five years behind on paperwork.

When Harry was promoted to overall head of the DMLE, he'd be taking Cornelius with him, and not as secretary. The boy wasn't aware why, but he knew Harry was grooming him for something. Because Harry had been sending Cornelius to Muggle forensic classes, and reading up on all the procedures that defined the Auror corps. Harry had plans for Cornelius and a complete overhaul of the Ministry's Law Enforcement wing, one that would be cherry-picking the best from both worlds.

"Harry, you all there?" Neville asked and Harry blinked.

"Sorry, long day."

"Want a Refresher? Hannah's been doing some experimenting, this new one tastes like chocolate." Tempting as that was, Harry was looking forward to a nap after this in his office, and didn't want excess wakefulness interfering with that.

"No thank you. Now you can't tell me you don't know what this is?"

"The Marauder's Map if I had to guess," Neville said. "And you want me to have this because?"

"I just want you to keep an eye on Teddy."

"Harry, putting aside the conundrum of me acting against my professional code, you have to make a choice. Either you let Teddy find his own way, or you don't. Whether or not you give him the cloak, and I'm going to pretend you haven't told me your plans, he's going to get into trouble. He's a growing wizard, and a good boy but trouble is part and parcel of growing up. I won't keep track of him if you give him the cloak, you will have to live with the decisions you make in Teddy's life, not me."

"I know, Neville, but I just..."

"Harry, I can promise you Teddy will face nothing more dangerous than any other student at the school. We have our own new ways of monitoring for trouble, and if anything beyond normal happens, you'll be the first person I Floo-call, okay?" Harry sighed and pocketed the map when Neville handed it back.

"You're a good mate, Neville," Harry said and Neville's cheeks went a bit pink.

"Glad to see you realize it."

"Bloody bit of cheek you are," Harry smirked and drained his butterbeer. "So, you coming over this weekend?"

"Are you kidding? And have a chance to drop Franklin off into Molly Weasely's tender care while the rest of us finally have a parent's night off? I wouldn't dare miss it."

* * *

"Shit." Harry cradled his head between his hands. He was a terrible husband and father. Without thinking he lifted the bottle again, taking a pull straight from the mouth of the Firewhiskey. It burned his throat and fumes flared up his throat making his stomach and lungs lurch. The world had begun to go soft around the edges, he wasn't drunk yet but he was getting there.

He'd been hiding in his office for over an hour now. Poor Al had finally gone to sleep and Harry felt worse than the scum of the earth. His baby boy had been so scared and Harry had almost—the thought of what he'd nearly done drove him to drink. The burning in his throat as he tossed back more Firewhiskey and coughed from the fumes meant he didn't hear Ginny come in.

"Tell me everything," she said simply, and conjured a low backed stool to perch upon. Harry looked up at his wife blearily, his vision fuzzy enough without his classes sitting crookedly on his nose. "Merlin's beard Harry, you look like something a Hippogryph coughed up."

"I feel worse," he said and Ginny tutted to herself.

"Then you better tell me what you did, hadn't you? I've never seen Albus so panicked." Harry took a shaky breath and tried to order his thoughts up into words.

"James… James found a snake out in the yard, and he hid it in Al's dresser, but it crawled out and went into his bed, and he…" Harry trailed off and Ginny looked bemused. If only she knew she wouldn't look like that, as if it were nothing, and Harry could feel fear choking his throat.

"He what? Panicked? Screamed?" Harry hissed and took a pull from the bottle. The heat burned the fear out of him long enough so he could talk.

"It spoke to him," Harry finally whispered and he could feel his wife grow cold in fear.

"No," Ginny whispered back in disbelief. Harry couldn't meet her eyes, some Gryffindor he was, right? But he kept talking, because now he couldn't stop.

"And he spoke back. And then he kept the damn thing in his pocket all day, and I didn't… I didn't find out until dinner." Harry exhaled in staccato bursts that caught like premature sobs. "I heard him talking to it, and I understood them. I could understand the snake, and so could he."

"Merlin, Harry," Ginny finally said. "I know you scared poor Albus half to death but that's a hell of a thing to happen." Harry moaned and buried his face in one ahnd, reflexively feeling for the scar.

"It's supposed to be over, he's dead and gone and I—well not gone but you know, in limbo or whatever and I can't—the Parseltongue was from him and it was gone, Gin, I swear to you it was gone and now it's back and Albus…" Harry rambled on before Ginny pulled him up out of the chair and shook him.

"Pull yourself together, Harry, Voldemort isn't back, it's just something leftover, okay? We can handle this, we handled Teddy's Morphagenic Disarray, and you were okay with that, remember?" Ginny took his hands in hers and held them tight.

"It's not the same, Gin," Harry said. "This is… what if he isn't really dead? I mean, I know where his soul is, but what if he found his way out of the train station?"

"As much sense as that doesn't make, I'm going to tell you this only once, Harry." Ginny looked straight into his eyes and spoke with such force he couldn't turn away. "Tom Riddle is dead. And there is no way he can come back. You can't come back from the dead, Harry, death cannot be broken, only cheated."

"And he's the greatest cheater the world has ever known," Harry protested. "He tried so many things, you don't know, Gin, the things he did trying to find his Horcruxes, what if this is a sign?"

"Harry, I know he did terrible things, but they're years old, and you have to let go. You have to let go so you can look at your son and not see dead dark lords." Suddenly the bottle was spelled from Harry's hands, Ginny's Banish strong enough to make his palms tingle sharply.

"I wasn't done with that," he said a bit surly and Ginny gave him a withering look.

"If you want to sulk, then fine, apparently it's part of your process, but you're not getting drunk up here by yourself. If you want to drink, at least go do it with a friend, because I'm not going to stand for this sort of behavior in our home."

"It's my house too," Harry slurred and regretted it at the cool expression that came over Ginny's face.

"There's no talking to you now, you'll say something we both regret. Go find someone else who'll put up with your self-flagellation." Harry snorted and nearly laughed. "What?"

"I know just the place where I can have a drink and someone can tear me down to size, but I don't think you'll like it."

"If going to visit…. Malfoy," Ginny said the name as distastefully as she could, "helps get you out of this sorry state then fine, go, and I really do not care."

"You serious? You hate him!"

"Harry, I'm not… you know what? Never mind, just go, okay? Do what you have to do and don't bother to come back until you're ready to act like a human being." Ginny didn't slam the door, but it shut very firmly all the same. Harry winced, he was damn lucky Ginny's temper had been tempered by time; if they'd been younger he'd be having bat bogey's attacking him.

After a few more minutes of quiet contemplation (he was not moping, thank you very much) he gestured at the fireplace, which flared up, and threw some Floo powder in.

"Malfoy Manor, Draco's study," he said and after a moment Draco's face appeared.

"What do you want, Potter I was about to… are you drunk?"

"Yes. Can I come through?"

"I guess," Draco said slow and warily. Harry laughed, a hysterical laugh that couldn't stop. He'd found that Draco was almost as scared of emotional intimacy as Hermione was of running out of books.

"Potter, I'm not—I might not be the best choice for you to visit in this… state of disarray you seem to be in."

"Budge back, Draco, I'm coming through.

"Why does he even bother to ask," Draco muttered to himself but moved out of the fire. Harry grabbed another handful of Floo powder and stumbled his way through, bringing billowing smoke and scattering ash over the floor. They were in Draco's study, which was half library half potion's laboratory. Draco looked perfectly poised as always, even in his evening robe, making Harry feel every inch the slovenly drunk.

"So graceful, so elegant," Draco drawled and vanished the mess. "Now what in Merlin's Beard are you doing here this late and this drunk? The Weaselette finally leave you?"

Harry didn't answer right away, mostly because he wasn't sure what he wanted to say and he could tell how uncomfortable Draco was, and he was not above drawing this out a bit.

"Rough day," Harry finally said. "I was—I did something bad, and I scared my family."

"Oh no, you weren't perfect," Draco said in an unsurprised monotone. "Whatever will the Daily Prophet think?"

"I know I'm not perfect, but there's, there's you know, perfect, and then there's good enough, and I thought I was good enough but I'm not because I yelled at my boy, my baby boy and shite I've bollocksed up."

"Good lord, Potter, what have you been drinking? Pity Potion?"

"Is that even a thing?" Harry asked.

"If it isn't, I can easily come up with one," Draco said with casual arrogance. He was nowhere near the potion's master Snape had been, but who was? Draco was still head and shoulders above Harry in that arena. "Now why aren't you good enough this time, wait, let me guess, it has something to do with the war."

"Maybe, but this is different," Harry protested.

"Potter, you say that every time, and I have to say I do not remember signing up for your personal problems." Harry ignored Draco and examined the portrait on the wall. Selena Malfoy, born 1497 died 1582. The woman wasn't young looking, but for a witch she was too young to have died a natural death. The portrait was looking down at him with sleepy bemusement, before she closed her eyes and the curtains around her pulled shut.

"They think we're having sex, you know," Harry finally said, apropos of nothing. It wasn't really a them, it was mostly a George Weasely, but sometimes Ron and Hermione and even Ginny would mutter about how fixated on Draco he was. Harry's response was he knew exactly what he liked about Malfoy, and what he didn't like, and they had history, major history. Maybe almost murdering Draco and Draco trying to kill him wasn't the same as sticking a wand up a troll's nose, but Harry honestly could not imagine his life with the fair-haired son of a bitch. And they were both Teddy's family.

Draco raised an eyebrow at him from the comfort of his chair.

"Do they, now. Well, Potter, I'd hate to disappoint them, but you look like something that rolled out of a trash heap behind the Leaky Cauldron." Harry rolled his eyes at Draco's drawling sarcastic tone. The other man could always be counted upon to deride Harry's words. Harry wondered if it was healthy that enjoyed it, and then decided it didn't bear thinking about.

"I'm not gay, Draco, and neither are you, unless there's something you haven't told me, or your wife." Draco scoffed and Harry glanced at him curiously.

"Please, Potter, you can't still be as ignorant as you sound." Okay, now Harry thought he knew most everything about the magical world, and he was fairly certain that sexual orientation was the same for wizards and Muggles.

"What?"

"Sometimes I forget you were raised by those unmagical apes you have for relatives." Harry knew that for an outright lie, but Draco continued unabated. "Wizards are attracted to each other in more than appearance and compatibility of personality. We're drawn to magic, and magic that matches ours tends to meld into strong bonds. Why do you think so many of us find our matches while at school?"

"But, I'm definitely attracted to women," Harry protested, reflexively checking back in his memory. Sure he'd been a bit infatuated with Oliver Wood, but with Quidditch players it was okay to be a little queer, hero worship did that to a man. "I love my wife, and we have a great sex life." Draco gagged and affected a very queasy look.

"Please, never again put the image of a naked Weasely in my head."

"She's a Potter, Draco, and her name is Ginny," Harry said, amused. Draco's insistence on outdated surnames no longer annoyed him, although his "acting" frequently set Harry's teeth on edge.

"I'm aware. In any event, why did you seek me out for this little talk?" Draco's eyes were piercing. Harry looked around evasively, trust Draco to somehow lance through the last few minutes of conversation and ask a question Harry didn't want to answer. Now the feelings of darkness, of that thing inside himself, that bit that could Crucio a man for spitting in McGonagall's face or tear a dark witch limb from limb, that thing that yelled at his son, surged back into being.

"Because… you understand." Draco snorted derisively.

"Understand what? That you're still an unread oaf?" Harry tapped his fingers along the top of the chair's back he stood behind. For a moment the room was silent but for the crackling of the fire and the low hum of the fairy lights.

"You didn't have a choice, in, you know, the war."

"This really is about the war?" Draco exclaimed in shock. "I was just joking. Merlin's beard, Potter, you have got to stop living in the past."

"I can't help it." Harry began to stalk around the room, his emotions burning energy in every step. "I just can't stop thinking about it. My dreams have—today I heard my son speaking to a snake and I understood it. And Ginny… I thought it was gone, that Voldemort was out of my life forever, I was only a Parseltongue because of him."

"How utterly horrifying," Draco said in a deadpan, "that your son is blessed with a magical gift you share, from defeating the most powerful dark wizard of the past few hundred years. Now explain to me why exactly you can't talk with the Weasel or Granger?"

"This thing you have with surnames, is that a pureblood thing?"

"Partially, Potter, mostly it's a Draco Malfoy thing. And don't avoid the question." Harry was silent for a few moments, staring at his hands. Watching Draco out of the corner of his eye, he saw the other man sip at his glass of Firewhiskey.

"It's different with them. They chose to fight beside me, to be my friends, to put themselves in danger. I didn't. I never wanted any of it." Harry looked up and met Draco's gaze. "Like you. You never had a choice, you won't… judge me."

"So, what, you feel guilty for your feelings, which, at this point, are years old, and you can't talk about mostly unrelated issues to your wife or your best friends because they—what exactly—they chose to wage war for all the right reasons? That they're saints of some sort?"

"Kind of. I mean, I'm not saying this very well." Draco smirked at Harry and cross his legs in a very pretentious holier-than-thou motion. Sometimes Harry wondered why he subjected himself to this before remembering that it was supposed to be a refreshing contrast to how most people treated him.

Ginny was probably right, he was a bit messed up. Hermione blamed the Dursleys and Ron blamed his heroic masochism complex. There was absolutely no way he'd come up with those words on his own but Ron stuck to his guns.

"Potter, you've never said anything very well. Articulate responses are not your forte, and I'm not a mind-healer, or a Muggle Psychogist."

"Psychologist," Harry corrected absently.

"Oh that makes much more sense," Malfoy said as absently as Harry.

"Listen can we just—not talk about this?"

"It's either we talk about it, have sex, or you get yourself out the door and man up enough to tell your family you still have unresolved issues with the war, and you'll have to pardon me but I'm decidedly uninterested in seeing you naked." Here, Draco's eyes softened. "You aren't alone, Harry. The war ruined us, all of us. We carry that burden, and we strive to make sure our children feel none of its weight. Speaking of which, I have to write a letter to Scorpius and Astoria, so if we're done?"

"Thank you, Draco. I'll think on what you said."

"Whatever, Potter. Try not to knock yourself unconscious in the Floo with all that brain activity. I'd hate to be investigated by the Aurors for your attempted murder."

"Lucky for me, then, that you're not a murderer. You're a good man, Malfoy, and I'm glad I've gotten to know you." And with that surprising statement, both to him and to Draco, Harry stepped into the Floo.


End file.
